The Cold, Cold Steel of Handcuffs by Cindy Sheehan + Bush Sings

With the unbelievable 5th anniversary of “shock and awe” looming before us like a dark cancer that is out of control, the Buffoon in Chief, George W. Bush, once again tormented the nation with another obscene display of idiocy. This time at the Gridiron Club. Singing to the tune of “Green, Green Grass of Home” he warbles about the major scandals of his administration: Valerie Plame; Katrina; cronyism; Harriet Miers and Brownie; Dick Cheney and the fatal attraction (for our troops and innocent people in the Middle East) that they all have for the Saudi Royal Family, etc.

The worst thing about the performance, besides that anyone would think that almost 8 years of unpunished high crimes and misdemeanors is anywhere near approaching funny, the stellar-in-their-own-minds, Washington “Elite” and some of the press corps were laughing uproariously and gave the traitor wearing a tuxedo and a cowboy hat a standing ovation.

Cameras were banned that night and from what I understand, agreements were made that video would not be shot, but still the song can be heard on YouTube. I get the feeling when these modern day Vampires get together like this, they frequently laugh at the rest of us with their parodies of heartache and devastation and chuckle all the way to the bank when they cash their paychecks drawn on the blood of so many innocent people.

On a par with his other wickedly “hilarious” bit about looking for WMD at the Correspondent’s Dinner in 2004 right before his lies killed my son, Casey, whenever I see George tap-dancing, smirking, snickering, singing, or generally acting very undignified and un-presidential; I just want to scream: “What’s so freaking funny?” I have found many opportunities for laughter and joy over the past four years, but I still lie awake at night mourning my son who wouldn’t be in an early grave if his commander-in-chief was not such an unrepentant murderer.

I am not the only one who has been sent into a lifelong paradigm of grief and longing during the years of BushCo. There are literally millions of people in Iraq and Afghanistan whose lives have been torn asunder by Mr. Vaudeville. Thousands of our own citizens in the Gulf States are still displaced from their homes by Katrina and the incompetence of the “Brownie” that George parodies in his song. Many of us have lost our jobs, our homes, our health insurance, our retirement safety net and pine for any semblance of financial security while George just wants to shake the dust of DC off his feet and head back to his pig farm in Crawford and live a life filled with “clearing brush.” I hope he’s been saving his money, because gas has just about tripled since his reign of terror began almost 8 years ago.

The death of the 4000th soldier KIA in Iraq will probably coincide with the fifth anniversary of the invasion this month. 4000 souls who won’t get a “do-over” or be able to slink off into relative peace and quiet like BushCo. Other troops have been turned into occupiers, torturers and puppy-killers and will have to have some deep therapy to be re-integrated into our society and the Washington Press Corps laugh at George’s antics like they are not also responsible for the mayhem he has unleashed on the world.

George and Dick think that they are getting off scott-free from their crimes against humanity probably because they are confident that the reich-wing, reactionary Supreme Court will support their crimes after Congress approves them.

We need to join the world community and communities like Brattleboro. Vt. in relentlessly pressing for war crimes tribunals against George and Dick, et al. For once, American regimes cannot ride contentedly into the sunset after their terms are up to live in comfort while millions of us suffer. It cannot happen this time. BushCo need to be, if not confined behind bars, confined into small prisons of their own making and be terrified to step outside their cloistered existences lest they be swept into real prisons, housed with the real people that they always condemned in their unbridled arrogance.

By my calculations there are 314 more days of the Bush nightmare left; millions of more people to kill or oppress; at least one more country on their list of impending invasions; and countless more crimes against our constitution to commit. Electing a black man with the middle name of Hussein or a woman with Bush-style foreign policy credentials will not be enough to redeem our standing in the world after 8 years of George. They need to go now. It took New York less than 48 hours to get rid of Gov. Eliot Spitzer for crimes far less egregious than BushCo’s. Unless the 110th Congress wants to go down in infamy as fiddling while George burns the world, then they had better get busy.

I was thinking what would be an appropriate gift for BushCo on the fifth anniversary of their greatest crime against humanity and I researched what would be a socially acceptable fifth anniversary gift for them. Wood is the traditional choice, and being a peace activist who is opposed to the death penalty, an electric chair did not even cross my mind (well—it did for just a second.) The modern gift on the fifth anniversary is “silverware.” I would chip in for silver-plated handcuffs that they can stylishly wear to prison.

15141Rik — March 11, 2008 — President Bush singing at the Gridiron Club’s Annual Spring Dinner on March 8, 2008. Many Republicans in the audience raised cigarette lighters after the performance.

Lyrics:
Yes you’re all gonna miss me, The way you used to quiz me, But soon I’ll touch the brown, brown grass of home.

I spent my days clearing brush
I clear my head of all the fuss
But the fuss you made over harriet and brownie
Down the lane I look and here comes Scooter
Finally free of the prosecutor

Chorus

And then I wait and look around me
At the oval walls that surround me
I realize I was only dreaming
For there’s Condi and Dick, my old compadre,
Talking to me about some oil rich Saudi,
But soon I’ll touch the brown brown grass of home.”

Chorus

That old White house is behind me,
I am once again carefree,
Don’t have to worry ’bout a crisis in Pyongyang.
Down the lane I look, Dick Cheney is strolling
With documents he’d been withholding,
It’s good to touch the brown brown grass of home.”

Translate

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